I still remember that day.

When you were taken away.

The day you left.

So clearly.

Maybe it's because it was today or yesterday.  Or a thousand years yesterday.

I've lost count of the days.

I wonder how the skies can shine without you here.

Because every day feels like a rainy day to me.  

Crying skies sympathize with me.

I wonder how the world keeps spinning when there is no reason to.

You aren't here anymore, so what urges it to keep revolving on its axis? Turning and turning.

That day, sleeping soundly in my bed.

A single bullet took you from me.

And I could have stopped it.

I could have found a way to do the impossible.

If you only gave me one more day.

I would change fate itself, shaping destiny with my puny hands.

I have a lot of regrets, things my mind lingers on.  Things my mind convinces me to delve into, to probe deeper into the possibilities.  As if I could change the unchangeable.  As if I could come to terms with a prospect that was even bigger than me.  As if I could make what has already been destroyed.  As if I could grasp even a sliver of the fleeting dream that you have gifted me.

If you gave me one more, big chance.

But now that I think about it, I wouldn't change a thing.  

Because I'm glad it was you.

To live a life with you in it was one of my greatest joys, and even your loss couldn't take a speck of that happiness from me.

I would love nothing more than to fight with you again.  To build ideas, to debate with you.  

I would give up everything if it could mean you could play that ping pong match with me like you promised.  We never decided on a winner.

If you could teach me another thing.

If you could hug me once more.

Your passing showed me how easily promises can be broken.

Was it my words that drove you to the edge?

No, you said it wasn't.

But it doesn't stop the voice inside, my subconscious.  The sharp, lethal words that keep pestering me, threatening to break down my walls and dig deep into my fragile skin.

Everything you did wasn't you.

Your eyes didn't glimmer, your smile was weak.  

Dull movements.

Your deep, brown hair. 

Chilling, blue eyes.  Like a running river.  Racing with excitement and joy, constantly moving forward.  

Calming current of love and care.

Protruding ears.

Cheeky grin and full cheeks.

Mole set under your nose.

Youthful gaze and spirit.

All gone.

And I didn't notice.

I didn't notice when you kissed me goodbye.  A kiss I thought to be a symbol of  a fresh start.

Maybe for you it was.

When you walked back to that door. And I watched.

When you opened the door.

When you walked down the stairs, the floorboards emitting noisy sounds in an attempt to warn me.

When you didn't walk back.

When I didn't hear you.

Where did you go?

What did you do?

Did I ever bother to consider how you felt?

When you opened the screen door and left, treading the golf course.

My ears were deaf to the piercing explosion.  

The final signal.  

You were gone.

I remember the next morning when I fell to my knees, my heart set aflame, my eyes crushing down, my stomach giving out.

The kind of emptiness that can never be filled.

I couldn't eat.

And I have a feeling that it will be harder to sleep.

Every night I'll look up at you and pray.  Pray that you meet your destination safely.

I'll tell you about my day, hoping the message reaches your ears.

You're only sleeping.

You'll wake up soon.

I have no doubt that you will rise up from the ashes, dramatic as you once were.  

A standing ovation to your cause.

Or maybe that's my imagination running wild.

I'm trying to follow the path you have set for me.  But there are so many easy detours and so many difficult, persistent obstacles in the way.  This whole writing is like a rocky road, a jumble of my thoughts that don't seem to flow so smoothly.  Maybe they will someday.

I've had a few thoughts recently.

I used to think that photos were useless.  But I've found out how precious they can be.  Because I see you in them, their glossy surfaces radiating a spontaneous, vigorous energy in each pose, in each smile, in each poised figure.  Moments that will never again be captured, no matter how blurred- each as important as the last.  Each perfect in every single way.

I look at them, and try to imagine that, thought I have lost you, another me in another universe hasn't.  

So, maybe if I can't hug my dad, she can. 

I get so lost in my head imagining a reality that isn't real.

Part of me has an irrational, erratic hope.  

I've avoided coming downstairs early in the morning.

Because I'm so used to seeing you there.

Maybe if I avoid it, I can evade the disappointment that comes with it.

But I don't think I ever will.

I've also been looking up at my ceiling a lot more.  For the first time in a long time.

It seems really unfamiliar.  I never had the time or depth of thought to actually make me look up.

But now I do.  

'Cause I'm sorting out my feelings.

When I was really little, it seemed so big.

Now it just seems kinda small.

And blank.

Then my train of thought derails, landing in a whole new world of clouds.  Big and fluffy.

Signs from you.

This experience has taught me a lot too.

I've learned to close my eyes and let out a big, long sigh.

Y'know, if you close your eyes long enough, you can see your ideas rebounding off the walls of your brain.  At least, that's what I like to think it is.

I've also learned to bite my tongue.  Though, I'm sure there are plenty of snide, spry remarks that I could come up with.

They're piling up in my brain, and maybe someday, I'll have the courage to say them.

Like a wise man once said: it's easier to win an argument against a genius than a fool.

I'm choosing my battles.

There are times when I feel real lonely.  So I put on your jacket, and pretend you're giving me a hug.  It makes me feel better.

Other times I feel like it's not me walking anymore.  Like the labored steps I take are not my own.  Weird, right?

You always cared about us.  We were always in your sights, and I choose to believe that we always will be.  No matter how far away, we will always be together.

You have given me so much- so much more than physical attributes, but also memories. Love and care.  The lessons you have taught me will never go unnoticed.

This is the least I can do for you.

I will cherish the time you chose to spend with me.

You wouldn't want me to sit and mourn.

You would want me to celebrate your life.

To be happy about the fact that you were once here.

I think I am.

You're in a better place now.

And for once, I am at peace with that.  Because I can bet that you are jamming out up above with not-so-heavenly moves.  

You'll have to show me when I meet you again.

When I give you a great, big hug and tell you all the things that I never got to say.

I never showed you my writings.  So if I can't show you, then I'll write for you.

I'm so emotionally exhausted and numb that I can't even begin to comprehend.

People will tell you it's okay, but that's not what you want to hear.

At least, it's not who you want to hear it from.

Because it'll never fully be okay unless it's you who tells me so.

Mom told me this grief would be like waves, weaving in and out.

At one point, the waters are so mellow, restoring an inner feeling of acceptance.  

But in the blink of an eye, the ocean floods the shore, stealing any of that feeling like the sands, overpowered by the current.

I feel like I'm in the eye of the storm, watching as others are flung around, lost in the whirlwinds of pain and rage.

But not me.

Sometimes I'm able to ease the pain.

But then it numbs and I worry I'll never be able to feel again. I think that's the scariest.  Because people fear uncertainty.  People fear the unknown.  

I just don't want to convince myself I'm okay when I know I'm not.

But I guess, the truth is, I don't really know anymore.

And then a massive wave of emotions pushes me down, dictating my sentiments, and changing everything I ever thought I knew.  And I can't help but feel relieved that I can feel again.  Even as I'm being drowned, the fear subsides, and I feel an eerie sense of peace.

But even so, I don't think there's any pain worse than this.  Because it gets worse, even when I think it's getting better.  But that's the way affliction is.  Unpredictable, unprecedented, uninvited.  It's just there. And I know it'll always be.

I'm not mad.  Just disappointed that I couldn't be there for you like you were for me. That my hugs couldn't keep you here.

There are a million things I want to say to you and a million things I'll never be able to.  A million words I wish I could take back.

It makes me envision rain rising.  Because I know that it's not plausible.

There are a billion things I want to do with you.  A billion things I want to do again.  A billion things I'll never be able to.  And it keeps replaying in my head, a scrambled mess of loose emotions gone wild.

You'll never be able to walk me down the aisle.

To tell me I look pretty every day, even when I feel differently.

To comb and style my hair, even when you are confounded by the complex ways of hair.

To sing with me in the car as we harmonize about the old man who walks his dog each day.

To stay by my side and grow old, gaining wrinkles.

To zoom me across the gold course, hooting and hollering as you drive that cart with such confidence.

To pump me up everyday as you drive me to school, blasting rock n'roll.

To help me raise my children.

To tell me about the everyday adventures of the rambunctious child, William.  To describe his life, a life full of exploration and discovery that I found so intriguing.

To teach me how to drive, in the hopes that you could prevent me from crashing into a tree like  mom did.

To serenade me with that sweet voice of yours, belting the high notes.

Because that was your refuge as much as it was mine.

Did you know how much I loved you?

Did I ever get to tell you that?

Will I ever be able to?

I just hope you know.  I'm sorry if I never took the time to tell you.

That you were my first love, the man I adored, the father I was so fond of.

I can see you everywhere I look.

In the trees where you ventured as a child, frolicking in the search for adventure.

In the skies that you looked up to in such an optimistic manner.

In that huge bike, which you used to lead the rest of us on a road of excitement.

In the kisses and hugs that they give me.

Except I know it's not you.

It'll never be.

You'll never be there to give me kisses again.

Or to hug me.

Or to laugh that throaty laugh of yours as you cracked a joke.

Or to shake your leg after a spectacular victory.

Or to brag about your golf scores.

Or to display your special smirk like an artifact in a museum.

You'll never be there to scold me for my mistakes.

Or to tell me how my math problem was wrong and how I could do it correctly.

Or make me see the beauty in the little things.

Or even to yell at me or get angry.

I hope you're happy, wherever you are.  You deserve to be.   I just hope you were satisfied with us too.

Sure, we weren't the closest, but we loved each other.  That's all that one could ever ask for.

My mind is racing with endless questions.  Things I need to ask you.

How can people laugh without the joke?

How can they smile without a reason?

Did I ever take the time to get to know you?

Will I forget your smile? Your laughter? Your honesty?  Your words?

What were you thinking about?

How do you say what's been left unsaid for 13 years?

How can 3 people do the work that was meant for 4?

Can a kid take the place of a dad?

Is this void ever going to fill?

Why?

I sit here in your hat, desperately searching for the missing answer.  But all this pondering will never take away from the fact that this hat is too big.  This hat doesn't fit me.  This hat is one that feels empty without its owner.

Or maybe it's not the hat.  Maybe it's just me.

There will never be enough words to express how much I miss you.

The longest speech couldn't possibly come close to saying all the things I've wanted to say, to opening the bottle of emotions that I've kept closed for so long.

I keep thinking you'll walk through that door.  

Like the morning when I first held hope.  And dropped it, its delicate figure cracking at the hard truth of the ground.

You fell with the sun.

Every time I look into her starry, pained eyes, I'm reminded of the tragedy.  Of the loss that the world has experienced.

Or when I look in the mirror.  My face contorting, never sure which emotion to land on. Eyes flickering, traveling the barren wastelands of my reflection in search for the light.

I realize over and over again that you're gone. With each grimace.

That I'll never see you again.  Perpetual doubt within a life that is only temporary.

I've finally realized that. Life is temporary.

Even for a legend like you.  One that affected everyone he met.  Who inspired.  One who's life and legacy was bigger than even himself.  

The funeral's coming soon.

I've contemplated talking at the service.  But I've decided not to.  Because as long as you can hear what I'm thinking and the things I've longed to say to you, I'm perfectly content.

This whole thing is overwhelming, really.  

Then again, choices are overwhelming.

It still feels like a dream and sometimes I'm just waiting for someone to wake me up.

Like a surreal out-of-body experience.

I'll soon meet loads of people in your life.  It won't completely live up to who you are. But we'll try. 

We tried to get a trophy urn, but you can guess how that panned out.

To me, you were the most amazing father.  You were nothing but good to me.

To others, a reliable co-worker, a selfless friend, a practical debater, a kindred spirit, a kind soul.

I hope this pain we bear will soon subside, this void filled.

But no matter what, you will not be forgotten.

Your spirit lives on, blemished by sad memories and adorned by happy ones too.

I will remember the good things.  And some of the bad too.  Because that's what made you human.  That's what made you, you.  That's what made you my dad.

Your go-lucky demeanor rubbed off on everyone you met.

That goofy, fun-loving nature is what attracted everyone to you, friends and family alike. I want to be joyful- for you.  Like you always were.  You always told me sadness was an attitude.  So I've got to think with the brightest optimism.  There's no room for pessimism in my head anymore.  

We'll never truly move on.  You are forever engraved in our minds, a symbol of love, grace, and joy.

We'll move forward.  Together.

I love you, Dad.

I wish I would have said that more often, because I could not mean it enough.